


5 Times Neither of Them Said 'I Love You' and 1 Time One of Them Did

by brbsoulnomming



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-08
Updated: 2011-12-08
Packaged: 2017-10-27 02:11:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/290516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brbsoulnomming/pseuds/brbsoulnomming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt at the Grimm <a href="http://grimm-kink.livejournal.com/452.html?thread=190404#t190404">kink meme</a> for the first 'I love you': <i>I don't care who says it first or even what the circumstances are. I just want a scene where one of them says 'I love you' for the first time (because I'm a ridiculous romantic like that).</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Times Neither of Them Said 'I Love You' and 1 Time One of Them Did

**1.**

“No.” It’s the first thing Monroe says when he opens the door, right after the bell rings at seven in the morning. He’s not worried about it being anyone but Nick, for two reasons – one, Monroe could smell him as he walked up, and two, there’s not really anyone else it could be.

Sure enough, Nick is standing on his front porch, smiling at him with hopeful eyes.

“ _No_ ,” Monroe says again. He knows very well he’s going to let Nick in, like he always does – it isn’t fair for a _Grimm_ to have eyes like that – but that doesn’t mean he has to make it easy on him.

“Five minutes,” Nick says.

Monroe rolls his eyes. “It’s never five minutes.” It’s either two seconds, when Nick’s in a hurry and rushes out after getting an answer he wanted, or hours, when Nick rushes out and drags Monroe along with him. Or when Nick’s come over just to hang out, which was weird at first but has been happening more lately, particularly since Nick’s scent stopped being tinged with a faint hint of perfume. Those times tend not to be at seven in the morning, though.

“But you always let me in anyway,” Nick says with another smile.

“You’ll come in whether I let you or not,” Monroe grumbles, but he stands aside to let Nick through. “What is it this time?”

Monroe’s right. It’s not five minutes. It’s not two seconds, either, it’s hours, because Nick explains eagerly and Monroe’s actually got information that’s not only helpful, but apparently pinpoints where the guy Nick’s looking for is.

Nick says “ _Come on_ ” and “We have to get him before it’s too late,” and it’s the first one that has Monroe following him out the door and to his car, because he can’t say no when Nick looks at him like he needs him.

He _can_ bitch about it, though, and add a few more to the number of times that Nick owes him, and wonder when the hell he’s actually going to get paid back for any of this, because so far Nick isn’t doing anything but running up a tab.

Unfortunately, Nick is too focused on the case to appreciate the comedy gold that Monroe’s throwing his way there, and he doesn’t do anything but promise to pay him back. He doesn’t even take his eyes off the road to say that.

In the end, really, Monroe isn’t that necessary. Or at least, he’s pretty sure Nick could’ve handled it without him. All right, so Monroe was the one who knocked the guy out after they burst in on him in the cave he’d been hiding out in, but Nick’d had his gun drawn, he could have easily just shot the guy if things got out of hand.

No, wait, Monroe was absolutely necessary. Essential, even, and he’ll make sure to remind Nick of that, so he’ll remember how appreciative he should be.

Except then Nick would probably just use that as an excuse the next time that he’s trying to con Monroe into helping him.

Damn it. Monroe can’t win either way.

The guy’s unconscious and in handcuffs – seriously, _handcuffs_ , because Nick still insists on arresting them when he can instead of just killing them, like a normal, terrifying Grimm would – and Monroe’s standing around awkwardly while Nick calls it in.

He should leave. Before the other police get here, wonder why a former suspect in a kidnapping case is hanging around another crime scene, and start asking questions.

But he doesn’t, because as he’s trying to decide if avoiding questions is worth the walk back into town – really, this is the last time he lets Nick drive – Nick hangs up and walks back over.

“Told them we found his hideout while we were hiking,” Nick says with a grin. “They’re on their way.”

“So we’re hiking buddies now?” Monroe asks, raising an eyebrow.

Nick shrugs. “Good of a cover as anything.”

“Great,” Monroe mutters. “This mean you’re going to be coming over even more now, dragging me out on nature walks?”

“Hey, it’s kind of like my responsibility to take you for walks, right?” Nick says, deadpan.

Monroe just – kind of stares at him, because he _cannot believe Nick actually said that_. Okay, no, that’s a lie, he definitely can.

Especially since Nick is smirking now, clearly amused with himself.

“I think you were dropped on the head as a kid,” Monroe says.

“You sure you want to question my aunt’s parenting skills?” Nick asks. “I thought she was like the boogeyman for you.”

Monroe winces. “Right, statement retracted. Let’s just not bring her up, okay?” He doesn’t even want to think about her likely reaction, if she ever found out exactly how much time her nephew is spending hanging around a Blutbad.

Or exactly how much that Blutbad secretly likes it, especially times like now, when Nick’s still riding the adrenaline, mood buoyed by the near completion of a case, and telling Monroe that he appreciates Monroe’s help.

Monroe a lot more than likes it, actually.

It’s not as much of a realization as it could have been, because Monroe’s been aware of – and denying – it abstractly for awhile. Still, when Nick smiles up at him and says, “Couldn’t have done it without you,” if Monroe had a tail right then, it’d be wagging.

And he’s pretty sure it’s showing on his face, so he quickly schools his expression back into a scowl.

“Yeah, because without me, you’d have ended up dead,” Monroe grumbles, deciding to go with ‘definitely essential in this.’ “Which, hey, lucky for me, would mean I could be nice and safe at home right now.”

“You’d miss this,” Nick informs him. “You love it.”

And the thing is – Monroe does. More than that, if Nick’d replaced both ‘this’ and ‘it’ with ‘me’, it’d still be true.

With the way Nick’s grinning at him, it makes him want to do something stupid, like actually _say_ that. Or, more likely, pin him up against that tree and kiss him, and see how long it takes for Nick to push him off, and then turn right around and pin Monroe up against the tree –

And see, there’s the problem. Because now thoughts like that are _in_ his head, and he’s going to have to exert even more control trying to keep them contained.

Because Nick can never find out. _Ever_. Monroe likes having his head attached to his neck, thanks, and not on a lamppost. He also – which he’d never admit, even under threat of torture – likes having Nick around, doing Grimm work and knowing he can pretty much count on Nick to stop by once or twice a week, to badger him into doing something dangerous and stupid or just watch a game and drink some beer. And either way, he can get Nick to smile at him like he is right now, like Monroe actually did something _good_.

Yeah, Monroe is so completely screwed.

And not in the good way.

 

 **2.**

Nick brings sheet music the next time he stops by Monroe’s house. It’s not an apology, because he’s not going to apologize for going to Monroe for help about this stuff – well, not by way of buying him things, anyway – but it is something of a thank you.

Despite that Monroe never actually tries to cash in on all of the ways Nick owes him, no matter how many times he may point them out, Nick does know that he owes Monroe a lot. A lot more than a book of sheet music, really, but hey, it’s the little things that count for the most, right?

Yeah, yeah. He knows Monroe will like it, anyway.

He shows up at a decent time, because as entertaining as it usually is having Monroe grumble at him, Nick’s slightly wary of the effects of interrupting one too many Pilate workouts. A few times is funny, making it a habit might mess with Monroe’s pretty damn impressive control.

So it’s just before noon when he rings Monroe’s doorbell, the bag of sheet music clutched in his hand. It’s a plain paper bag, one of the stack he keeps in his aunt’s old trailer for when he has to cart something he doesn’t want anyone seeing out of there and to Monroe. Because, well, for the same reason he does things like call Monroe a good boy. As grateful as Nick is, it’s too much fun to poke at him.

Sure enough, when Monroe answers the door, he spots the bag in Nick’s hand and makes a face, lip curling up slightly in what might have been in a snarl.

“Are you serious? Come on, you just dragged me into this crap two days ago. I should have at least another few Grimm-free days in line,” Monroe says.

“You make it sound like you need time off from hanging out with me,” Nick replies.

Monroe snorts. “Hanging out with you, no. All of that Grimm crap? There isn’t enough time off in the world from that.”

Nick holds out the bag, giving it a shake. “Just take a look at this, and if you still want me gone, I’m out of here. Please?”

There’s a pause, then Monroe sighs and wordlessly steps back, holding the door open for Nick to duck into the house.

Monroe never says no to him, not really. Nick tries his best not to take advantage of that, but, well. It’s not like he has anyone else to go to. Nicks needs him.

“Give it here,” Monroe says, holding a hand out for the bag.

Nick passes it over, hiding his eagerness as he watches Monroe open the bag and look inside. For a moment, Monroe just stares into it, frowning. Then he pulls out the book of sheet music, staring at it in confusion. He looks up at Nick, and Nick smiles at him.

Monroe’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “Is this some sort of weird Grimm joke?”

“It’s called a gift,” Nick replies. “Maybe you Blutbaden don’t have them, but it’s where one person gives something to another, as a sign of friendship and appreciation. Plus, as a bonus, so that way the other person will stop making a tally of how many times the first person owes them.”

“You owe me like a million, dude. This isn’t going to stop the tally. It’ll knock a few off at most,” Monroe says, but he’s looking through the book with something almost like a smile. “How’d you even know I play the cello?”

Nick raises an eyebrow. “Why do you ask me questions like that? I’m a cop. I’ve seen the cello and sheet music you’ve got around here, and I’ve come over a few times while you were playing. Just because I don’t have Blutbad senses doesn’t mean I can’t hear cello music when I’m standing at your front door.”

“Funny,” Monroe comments sarcastically. “I’m starting to think I’ve got my own personal Grimm stalker. Shows up at my house at all hours of the night, hunts down my phone number when I change it, sneaks around to find out my hobbies.”

“Hey, it’s not sneaking if you invite me in,” Nick points out. “And aren’t you glad you let me in today?”

Monroe frowns slightly. “Wait, so, that’s it? There’s no Grimm stuff, you just came over to give me something?”

“What, disappointed?” Nick teases. “See, I knew you liked it.”

Monroe’s frown deepens into a scowl. “Shut up. It’s not that. It’s – why?”

It’s only then that Nick realizes that it’s probably been awhile since anyone’d actually gotten Monroe a gift. He’s said he doesn’t associate with other Blutbaden, and he doesn’t seem to socialize much in the human world, either – probably for obvious reasons.

It makes him reconsider the sarcastic comment he had ready about having to explain what gifts were again.

Instead, he says, “I thought you’d like it.”

Monroe looks vaguely uncomfortable, and frowns down at the sheet music, turning it over in his hands. He looks back up at Nick, and his expression is strange. Nick can’t make it out, and he’s usually good at picking up on that kind of thing.

And now he’s the slightest bit uncertain. “Did I get the wrong kind or something?”

“No,” Monroe says, after a long moment. “It’s great. I – thanks.”

Nick smiles. “Did I earn not getting kicked out, then?”

Monroe snorts. “You’ve actually moved on from bribing me to help you with Grimm stuff to bribing me just so you can hang around here?”

Nick still wants to know what the hell that’d been, what Monroe had been thinking. But he’s relieved to be back on firmer ground, so he drops it, smile shifting into a grin. “You could always let me stay without having to bribe you.”

“Then how would I have proof that you’re insane?” Monroe asks.

“You always manage to find some,” Nick says. “Or at least make some sort of comment on my lack of sanity in the middle of when we’re supposed to be working.”

“ _You’re_ supposed to be working,” Monroe grumbles. “I’m just the one getting dragged into it. Which I guess makes me crazy, too.”

“Must be,” Nick agrees. “But I like crazy, if it’s the kind that means you’re going to keep not kicking me out.”

Monroe mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “should’ve kicked you out the first time, then none of this would’ve happened, goddamn Grimm.”

Nick raises an eyebrow. “Hey, if you’re going to curse my name, at least do it so I can hear you.”

Monroe rolls his eyes. “Come on. Hockey game’s starting. If you’re going to hang around and annoy me, you can do it while we watch.”

 

 **3.**

It’s past midnight when Monroe gets a call from a number he doesn’t recognize. He considers ignoring it, but gives in and picks up, for some unknown reason. (Yeah, okay, he picks up because there’s a high probability it’s Nick. Shut up.)

“Is this Edward Monroe?” a smooth, professional female voice asks, setting his alarm bells ringing.

“Yeah,” he says warily.

“This is Anna Marcos, from the Providence Medical Center. I’m calling because a Detective Nick Burkhart-”

“Is he okay?” Monroe demands, perfectly aware that he’s interrupting her, but unable to help himself.

“Yes, sir, he’ll be fine. He’s asleep right now, but he should be waking up soon,” Marcos says. “I’m contacting you because he came in alone, and you’re on his emergency contact list.”

Monroe’d been ready to ask what the hell happened, but his train of thought is derailed at that. “I’m what?”

“He’s put you down as someone to get a hold of in case of an emergency,” Marcos replies.

Monroe bristles, but manages not to snap at her that he _knows_ what an emergency contact list is. “Am I the only one?”

“No, sir, there’s also a Captain Renard and a Detective Griffin. Captain Renard couldn’t be reached, but Detective Griffin is on his way here,” she says.

“Then why are you calling me?” Monroe asks.

There’s a pause, and when Marcos replies, her tone – which had been soothing and sympathetic – is a hell of a lot frostier. “It’s generally our policy to notify someone’s partner when they’ve been admitted to the hospital and are unable to contact them themselves.”

This time Monroe’s train of thought doesn’t so much derail as it does completely break down. Or possibly run off a cliff. “Excuse me?”

Her tone chills even more. “Usually we find that’s something they’d like to know.”

“He put me down as his _partner_?” Monroe asks.

Marcos sounds confused now. “Yes. Is our information incorrect?”

“No, I-” Monroe pauses. It’s probably not the best sign that his immediate instinct was to assure her that, no, that information was definitely correct. But hell, go with it now, ask questions later. “No, I’m just in shock. Sorry. What happened?”

“There was a minor altercation,” Marcos says, her tone defrosting a bit. “Detective Burkhart needed a blood transfusion and some stitches, but he’ll be fine. You can come see him if you want.”

“Right. Okay. Thanks,” Monroe says.

He hangs up and stares at the phone. Yeah, it’s way too late for him to try and process any of that. Especially since, despite Marcos’s assurances that Nick was fine, Monroe’s unfortunately very aware that he’s not going to be satisfied until he sees it for himself.

Except Monroe really doesn’t want to have to explain what he’s doing there to Nick’s partner – is that what Nick meant, partners in the detective sense? It should have been obvious what the nurses would think, considering it wasn’t like Monroe had a detective in front of his name, but Nick could be incredibly dumb like that.

Twenty minutes later, when Monroe is still both trying to talk himself out of and into going to the hospital, his phone rings again. Nick’s cell number is displayed on the screen, and Monroe answers it hurriedly.

“Hello?” he asks, pleased that’s what came out, rather than the other responses that’d been on the tip of his tongue, like ‘are you okay,’ ‘what happened,’ or ‘are you completely insane?’.

“Hey, it’s me.” Nick’s voice sounds tired but cheerful. “You’re up. Can I bribe you into coming over to watch the Winterhawks game? Missed it earlier today,” he says, for all the world like the reason he’d missed it hadn’t been because he’d been in the goddamn hospital.

“Seriously?” Monroe asks, because that’s the only response that he can actually think of to that.

“I’ve got beer,” Nick offers.

“You’ve got _stitches_ ,” Monroe counters.

Nick pauses. “Oh. How’d you find out about that?”

Monroe snorts. “You’re the idiot that put me on your emergency contact list. Which, by the way, what the hell? Your captain and your partner, sure, that makes sense, but the random Blutbad you badger into helping you?”

“I don’t badger,” Nick says, and Monroe can hear the grin in his voice. “I ask nicely. With alcohol. And you know you’re not random. I needed the people closest to me, and with – well, that’s Hank and you and the captain.”

“You badger me with alcohol,” Monroe grumbles, because hell if he’s going to touch the rest. Stupid Grimm, why does he have to say shit like that?

“Is that a no to coming over, then?” Nick asks.

Of course it’s not a no. It’s never a no. But Monroe scowls at the phone anyway. “Didn’t your partner come and get you?”

“Yeah, and he’d’ve stayed, but he’s got work tomorrow, I don’t want to do that to him. And I wanted to see you. Come on, when’re you going to get the chance to laugh at me while I’m loopy on morphine?”

“With our lives? Next Friday,” Monroe mutters, despite the fact that he’s already grabbing his keys.

It’s only after he’s agreed to go over and hung up that he realizes he’s been effectively distracted from demanding to know why the hell Nick thought it would be a good idea to say that Monroe was his partner.

Which means that when Monroe gets to his house, and Nick answers the door with half-lidded eyes and a smile way too wide for someone who’s just had their flesh stitched back together – loopy indeed – the first words out of Monroe’s mouth are, “So I’m your partner?”

Nick blinks at him, slowly. “I know you just said words. I’m reasonably sure they were supposed to make sense.”

Monroe rolls his eyes as he walks inside, Nick closing the door behind him. “The woman who called me about your little hospital visit, she said you put me down as your partner.”

Nick blinks again. “Oh. That.” He shrugs. “Half the reason you’re on there was in case it was because of something Hank and Renard wouldn’t understand. Wouldn’t do any good if they didn’t let you in because you weren’t family or something, so I couldn’t tell you what it was and how to stop it.”

Monroe stares at him. “So basically you said we were dating so I could get in to see you at the hospital, in order for you to tell me what put you in the hospital and send me after it?”

“Yes,” Nick replies. “No. So you could get me out of the hospital and we could go after it together.” He grins again. “And so you could get in to see me, because you know you’d want to. I’d want you to. Can we sit down now?”

Nick looks like he might sit down anyway, no matter Monroe’s answer, right there in the hall, so Monroe rolls his eyes again and steers Nick to the living room.

“You’re an idiot,” Monroe mutters. He doesn’t tell him that while, sure, he’d probably get him out of the hospital, he sure as hell wouldn’t be letting Nick go after anything that’d put him in the hospital as soon as Nick seemed to think he would.

Nick either doesn’t hear what he does say or decides to ignore it, and settles himself wordlessly on the couch.

“You promised me beer,” Monroe says, plopping down on the other side of the couch.

Nick makes a vague gesture at the coffee table, where Monroe spots two bottles of beer. He grabs one as Nick switches on the TV, and leans back to watch the game.

Except his mouth apparently doesn’t agree with him, because he finds himself asking, “So what happened? Grimm stuff?”

“Nah. Attempted robbery. Stopped it, but one of them got in a lucky hit.”

Monroe looks at him out of the corner of his eye. “Right, a lucky hit that ended up with you needing a blood transfusion and me getting a call from the hospital at ass o’clock.” He’d gone for snarky there, but it’d ended up sounding concerned and the slightest bit protective. Shit. “So you have her to thank for why I’m awake to come over here and look after you.”

“I didn’t think anyone’d call you,” Nick says, looking vaguely apologetic. “Since they got ahold of Hank and he came to pick me up.”

“You’re lucky they did,” Monroe points out. “What was your plan when you invited me over, hope I didn’t notice?” He taps the side of his nose. “You can’t hide it, man. Not to mention the way your eyes are all glazed over and you keep staring at nothing. Then I’d just be worried _and_ pissed.”

Nick frowns at him. “You were worried?”

Crap.

“Of course,” Monroe says. “You get hurt and it’ll somehow be my fault. And then good old Aunt Marie’ll come crawling out of the grave to put my head on a pike.”

“Hey,” Nick says, suddenly looking serious. Or as serious as he can look with his eyes unable to focus. “It wasn’t that bad. I’m okay. And anyone who wants to put your head on a pike is going to have to go through me.”

Monroe refuses to let that comment have any effect on him. Except – that it’s _weird_ , because he’s pretty sure Nick means it, and he still doesn’t know what to do with this whole having a friend thing. Especially a friend who he – you know what, yeah, never mind, not a place he wants to go.

He makes a face at Nick. “Save the tough guy talk for when you can stand for more than a few minutes, okay?”

“Okay,” Nick agrees easily, turning his attention to the game and stretching out more comfortably on the couch.

Monroe’s just relieved to have the whole thing dropped. He doesn’t even protest when Nick settles his legs on Monroe’s lap. Well, okay, he does protest. But he doesn’t move them.

Ten minutes later, Monroe notices that Nick’s eyes are closed, and he hasn’t opened them in a while. (Not that Monroe was watching or anything. Shut up.)

“Man, are you sleeping on me?” Monroe asks incredulously.

Nick’s eyes open a bit. “Sorry. I’ll try to stay awake.”

“No, you should get sleep,” Monroe says, feeling uncomfortable. “I can get out of here.”

“Don’t,” Nick says, his legs settling more heavily in Monroe’s lap. “Please.”

“You can barely keep your eyes open,” Monroe points out.

“I know it must be boring. I just-”

“Boring?” Monroe cuts him off, suddenly angry at Nick for just _not getting it_. “Are you kidding me? I’m a Blutbad. You’re a Grimm. An injured, vulnerable Grimm who’s about to fall asleep and make himself even more vulnerable.” It’s weirding Monroe out – mostly because it means he _should_ be having to restrain himself from trying to take out the Grimm while he can. But instead, he feels like – yeah, okay, he feels like curling around Nick and growling at anyone who comes close.

Goddamn is he screwed.

“Oh,” Nick says, closing his eyes. “In that case, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go back to sleep for a bit.”

And now Monroe actually is having to restrain a growl. “Why am I not surprised you’re not taking this seriously?”

“If you were going to kill me, you would’ve done it already,” Nick replies sleepily. “Probably that first time I pinned you and threatened you. Or the second. Or when I kept shoving my way into your house.”

Monroe – can’t really argue with that. Damn it. “Doesn’t mean I won’t shave off your eyebrows or something,” he says, not sulkily at all.

“You’re the one who’ll have to look at me,” Nick says, voice barely above a murmur. “Anyway, I trust you.”

Monroe really wishes Nick would stop saying shit like that. Every time, it makes him more aware of the thing he’s trying very hard not to be aware of. And, even worse, lately it’s been making him really want to say something about it.

And the thing is, right now, he probably could. He could say it. Nick’s most likely asleep by now, and he’s definitely a bit loopy. It’d be like actually telling him, but without the part where Nick’s actually aware of what Monroe’s said.

But he doesn’t. For one thing, Nick and his goddamn Grimm-ness would probably find some way to both hear and remember it. For another – he can’t. Saying it out loud makes it real, and he doesn’t want it to be real.

Nothing good lies down that path.

So instead, he takes a drink of beer, kicks his feet up on the coffee table, and, with one hand resting on Nick’s knee, settles in to watch the game.

He’ll wake Nick when it’s over.

 

 **4.**

Nick’s back at work before the stitches are even out, though it’s just paperwork and stuff he can do from his desk. Fortunately, it doesn’t take too long to heal completely, and by the time a month has passed, he’s entirely settled back into his normal schedule. Well, as normal as it can be with Juliette gone, anyway.

And as soon as he has that thought, Nick realizes – it _does_ feel normal. It feels like that should surprise him more than it does, that he somehow got used to her being gone without realizing it, but it doesn’t.

Though he will admit that it does get lonely at night. Or, well, when he is alone at night. With Grimm and police work, it’s rare that he actually gets a night to be lonely in. And then he usually finds himself either at Monroe’s or calling Monroe to come over. Monroe never says he’s busy, so Nick figures he must be just as lonely as he is.

Tonight definitely isn’t a lonely night. Tonight’d been a Grimm night, which means it’s nearly two in the morning when Monroe drops Nick off at his house, after they’d successfully tracked down and managed to apprehend their suspect, with fortunately minimal violence.

Nick really should head to bed, but he’s not tired, and tomorrow’s his day off, so he’s got no reason to wake up early. He’s debating grabbing a bowl of cereal or something when he walks by the back window and catches sight of something moving in his backyard.

Shit. Exactly what he needs right now.

Grateful that he hadn’t put his gun away yet, Nick quietly slides open the sliding glass door, flipping on the backyard light as he steps out. And spots Monroe, lurking by one of his trees.

“Monroe? Shit, are you trying to-” he cuts off as Monroe curses, followed by the sound of a zipper being done up.

“Are you actually doing what I think you’re doing?” Nick asks, staring incredulously at Monroe.

Monroe seems to consider that for a moment. “Is there any way you’re going to buy ‘no’?”

“You could try it,” Nicks suggests. “I’ll give you a minute, maybe you can come up with something convincing.”

“Hey, you’re the one that keeps inviting me over,” Monroe says with a scowl, body posture visibly defensive.

“You could’ve given me some kind of warning, that having you over here a lot would lead to you considering my house as part of your territory, or whatever,” Nick replies. “At least then I would’ve known what to expect.”

“It’s not like I knew this was going to happen, okay? See, this is why I avoid associating with people, it just gets complicated,” Monroe mutters.

He’s starting to look like he’s calculating the quickest escape route out of there, which makes Nick feel a bit guilty. It’s not like he _wants_ Monroe to leave, and, in all honesty, this is probably even more uncomfortable for him than it is for Nick.

Because it’s occurred to Nick that he doesn’t actually mind it, that Monroe apparently thinks of his place as something like home.

“You might as well come in, then,” Nick says.

Monroe stares at him. “Are you serious?”

Nick shrugs. “Is there any way to, I don’t know, reverse this, without you just not coming over anymore?”

“No,” Monroe says, then adds with obvious reluctance, “I’m not even sure that would work.”

“Then it looks like you’re expanding your territory,” Nick replies.

Monroe opens his mouth as if to say something, closes it, and then gapes at him. “What is _wrong_ with you?”

Nick frowns at him. “You’d rather I freaked out on you and never wanted to see you again?”

“Yes,” Monroe replies. “Because that would be the _sane_ thing to do. The thing that didn’t involve telling a Blutbad that it was okay to mark your house as part of his territory, do you have _no_ survival instinct?”

“I’m not telling some Blutbad, I’m telling _you_ ,” Nick says. “And anyway, I’m not saying it’s yours, I’m just sharing it with you. It’s still mine. I’m the Alpha of this little pack’s territory.”

Monroe looks at him like he’s trying to decide whether or not he should just kill Nick and put him out of his misery. “Yeah, it’s official. You’re an idiot.”

“Hey, you said you had packs. That means someone has to be the Alpha or something, right?” Nick asks.

“Stop getting your information from werewolf romance novels. It’s starting to be pathetic,” Monroe says, but he’s refusing to meet Nick’s eyes, so Nick is going to assume he’s right.

“Uh-huh. Are you going to come in, or are we going to stand out here and argue about how stupid I am for awhile longer?” Nick asks.

“We wouldn’t have to argue if you’d just admit it,” Monroe replies.

“I’m taking that as a ‘yes, you’re going to come in,’” Nick informs him, turning to head inside.

Sure enough, when he glances over his shoulder, Monroe’s there, falling into step with him as they walk back into Nick’s house. Nick slides the door shut, locking it and switching off the outside light.

“Wasn’t going to be able to sleep, anyway. We might as well put on a movie,” Nick says.

Monroe eyes him. “Put on a movie.”

“Or we could continue having a conversation about you taking a piss in my backyard,” Nick replies. “Whichever you prefer.”

“Movie it is,” Monroe agrees.

Nick throws on Die Hard, and sprawls out on the couch. Monroe joins him, sitting on the end he usually occupies, but it’s plain he’s far from at ease. He’s holding himself stiffly, as if wary of relaxing, and his eyes never stray from the TV. Which is unusual – generally Monroe’ll flick his gaze over to Nick every once in awhile, or occasionally at the doors.

“All right, maybe we do need to continue having that conversation,” Nick says.

Monroe snorts. “We don’t. You’re insane. _I’m_ insane. End of conversation.”

“Uh-huh. That’s why you look like you’re afraid that if you start relaxing, I’ll change my mind and kick you out,” Nick says.

“Stop projecting your insecurities on me,” Monroe mutters.

“You going to look at me, then, or are you that fascinated by Bruce Willis?” Nick asks.

Monroe turns to glare at him. “ _You’re_ the one who wanted to watch a movie.”

Right, Nick’s just going to be blunt now.

“It’s _fine_. Between police and Grimm work keeping me busy, you’re probably here almost as much as I am. I was planning on giving you a key anyway, it’s the same thing,” Nick says.

Monroe’s eyes narrow at him. “It’s not the ‘same thing.’ You just – say these things, and you have no idea what they mean.”

Nick’ll concede that. He doesn’t understand everything about Blutbaden, just what Monroe’s told him and what he’s pieced together from spending time with him. “So explain them.”

“No.” It’s short, sharp, and definitive, and Monroe turns to look back at the TV.

Like hell Nick’s letting that go.

“Why not?” he asks.

“Because you don’t want to know them,” Monroe says.

“You don’t know what I want to know,” Nick counters.

“ _I_ don’t want you to know them,” Monroe corrects.

“If you were worried about getting in trouble for giving away Blutbaden secrets to a Grimm, you should’ve thought about that before we became friends,” Nick says.

Monroe snorts, though he still doesn’t look at Nick. “We didn’t ‘become’ friends. You shoved your way into my life and it just _happened_. It wasn’t like you gave me time to think about it.”

Nick’s – a little hurt, actually. “You could’ve said no, told me you didn’t want to hang out with me.”

“I did tell you no. Repeatedly. And you kept showing up.”

“You kept letting me in,” Nick counters.

“Because I’m insane. Which we’ve already established, so we really don’t need to still be discussing this.” Monroe’s obviously annoyed, but he’s still refusing to look at Nick.

His jaw is set, determined, but his shoulders are hunched. He’s angled slightly towards Nick, but he’s staring away from him. He’s _hiding_ something, and it’s something big.

“What does my house being part of your territory mean.” It comes out as a cross between a statement and a question.

Monroe’s jaw clenches more, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Pl-”

“Don’t.” The word is soft, but forceful. Monroe looks miserable.

“Monroe.”

Monroe’s eye twitches slightly.

“Look at me,” Nick says gently.

Monroe does. There’s a flash of _something_ in Monroe’s eyes – heat, and something else, but Nick’s not going to find out what, because he’s suddenly kissing Monroe.

Nick’s not entirely sure it was intentional. Or, well, obviously, it was, but for the life of him, he can’t remember what the thought process was that lead to it. It just – seemed like the only appropriate response to the way Monroe was looking at him.

And for a moment, he’s sure he was right, because Monroe is kissing him back. But then Monroe makes a strangled sound and pushes him away.

“What are you doing?” Monroe demands.

“Do I have to explain kissing the same way I had to explain gifts?” Nick asks, sticking his usual smirk on his face, though even he can hear the uncertainty in his voice.

“ _Why_?” Monroe asks.

Because he wanted to. Because Nick thought Monroe wanted him to. Because he thought he’d figured out what that look meant, and he wanted it. Because Nick’s pretty sure he’s actually in love with Monroe.

But he doesn’t say any of that.

Instead, he asks, “What does this place being part of your territory mean?”

“It’s not about the place,” Monroe admits, a hint of a growl in his voice. “It’s about you.”

“That’s why. Because it feels like home when you’re around, too.”

This time, when Nick kisses him, Monroe doesn’t push him away. Instead he pulls him in, hand tangling in his hair as he kisses back.

Nick is the one who eventually pulls back slightly, and he does so with a grin. “Happy you told me now?”

“Shut up,” Monroe says, kissing him again.

Nick does.

 

 **5.**

It’s past nine when Nick finally leaves the station, a bit later than he’d planned on. Which would have been fine, normally, except that he was supposed to meet Monroe at his place at nine for a movie and some beers. It’s not like he really thinks Monroe’s going to be pissed at him – at least not so much that Nick can’t make it up to him – but it’s not exactly the impression Nick wanted to make, barely a month into their relationship.

He calls Monroe as he’s driving home, and when the call goes through, there’s a brief blare of music before it’s turned down, and Monroe’s slightly harried voice says, “Hello?”

“It’s me,” Nick says. “Sorry, I’m running late, but I’m heading to my place now.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, then Monroe says, “You better be, Grimm. I’ve been waiting for you for ten minutes now, you’re so going to owe me.”

Nick raises an eyebrow. “You’re in your car right now, driving to my house, aren’t you?”

Another moment of silence from Monroe, through which Nick can hear the faint sounds of a car engine.

“Shut up,” Monroe grumbles. “And I’m pulling into your driveway now, so I’m still going to have to wait for you.”

Nick laughs. “I’m less than ten minutes out. Just wait for me inside, you can get a head start on drinking the beer.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Monroe says, and Nick hears a car door slam. “You’ll be lucky if there’s any left f-”

He cuts off as something snarls, loud and close by and definitely _not_ Monroe – Nick knows what Monroe snarling sounds like.

“Monroe?” Nick asks, trying to keep his voice calm.

There’s no answer, just the sound of scuffling along with another number of snarls and growls – and this time, some of them _are_ Monroe.

Then Monroe’s back on the phone. “Nick,” he says, voice low and urgent. “I need you to turn around. Just – go back to the station for a little bit, okay? I’ll call you.” There’s some more growls, and then he’s gone.

“Monroe!” Nick shouts into his cell, but hears nothing but silence. He calls again as he steps on the gas, and it rings a few times before clicking over to voicemail.

Nick pulls his Bluetooth out of his ear without even hanging up, switching on the lights on his dash. He makes it to his house in only a few minutes, and spots Monroe’s yellow bug parked in his driveway.

Monroe’s standing next to it – or, more accurately, leaning against it. He’s shifted slightly, still human but looking wolfish, and he gives his head a shake, like he’s trying to clear it. A few feet away, circling him warily, is a large, muscular man – creature, Nick corrects, when he sees a pair of sharp, wickedly curved tusks.

Nick’s out of the car as soon as it’s in park, not bothering to turn the engine off or even close the door. He vaguely recognizes the creature from Aunt Marie’s books – a Geringeber – but he can’t remember much about them.

Except that they were dangerous when provoked.

“Police!” Nick shouts. “Don’t move!”

The Geringeber’s attention shifts towards him. There’s a moment of uncertainty, but when Nick gets closer, the Geringeber snarls and lunges for him.

Nick ducks, attempting to dodge out of the creature’s path – and is mostly successful, but not quite fast enough to avoid getting clipped on the shoulder by something that feels a hell of a lot like a hoof.

He curses, ignoring the flare of pain as he scrambles to his feet and pulls his gun.

The Geringeber, who had rounded on him, likely getting ready to charge at him, spots it and freezes.

“Good,” Nick says, keeping the gun trained on him. “Now what the he-”

“Wait,” the Geringeber says, a trace of fear entering his voice. “You’re a _Grimm_?”

Nick can work with this. “Yes,” he grits out. “And you just _attacked_ me.”

The Geringeber shrinks back into himself a little – literally, actually, as even his tusks seem to get a little bit smaller. “I didn’t – I’m sorry, I didn’t realize what you were.”

“So you thought I was just a human cop, and figured that meant it’d be okay to attack me?” Nick asks.

The Geringeber takes a few steps back, which actually puts him closer to Monroe, and makes Nick’s eyes narrow.

“I said _don’t move_ ,” Nick orders.

The Geringeber stops. “No, I – I thought you were with _him_.” His eyes flick over to Monroe. “The – the _Blutbad_. I didn’t know you were coming after him. Just – please, can I kill this one?”

Nick forces himself to keep his hand steady, and not grip the gun any tighter. It doesn’t help that when the Geringeber had looked over at Monroe, Nick had as well, and Monroe’s no longer even leaning against the bug. He’s slumped on the ground next to it. “No one is killing him. Not while I’m around.”

Confusion clouds the Geringeber’s face. “But you’re a Grimm.”

“We established that,” Nick replies.

“And he’s a-”

“I know what he is,” Nick interrupts. “That doesn’t change anything.”

Confusion fades to anger. “You can’t be serious. You’re a fucking Grimm! You kill any of our kind at the slightest excuse, and you’re protecting this goddamn _monster_?”

“It’d probably be a good idea not to call someone a monster when his boyfriend is pointing a gun at you,” Nick says, his voice deadly calm.

“His – what the hell kind of Grimm are you?” the Geringeber demands.

Nick shrugs, carelessly. “I’m new.”

“Then let me explain something to you. You’re a Grimm. He’s a Blutbad. You don’t _date_ them, you fucking _kill_ them. I don’t care what he told you, he’s a monster.” The Geringeber’s voice catches slightly. “He killed my brother.”

“You’ve got the wrong Blutbad,” Nick says immediately, even though he can hear Monroe’s voice adding _‘anymore’_ onto _‘I don’t kill’_.

The Geringeber laughs, humorlessly. “I _saw_ him. I told Carl to stay away from him, that he was trouble, but he wouldn’t listen to me.” His voice lowers slightly. “Kept saying there’s only one reason a Blutbad comes into a Geringeber’s territory, and we had to get him before he got us. I followed him, and – and he was right.” He looks over at Monroe and snarls. “The Blutbad _murdered_ him.”

The Geringeber’s grief is obvious, but that doesn’t stop Nick from noticing the details in his story.

It does, however, make his voice gentle when he says, “You said Carl went after him first?”

“I didn’t realize he was gone until-” the Geringeber stops, realizing what Nick is saying. “Only because he _knew_ , that if he didn’t the Blutbad would just kill us. And he was right!”

“Maybe he wasn’t planning on going after you,” Nick says. “I know him. He’s a good guy. Maybe it was a misunderstanding, things got out of hand. It’s horrible, but it wasn’t anyone’s fault.” Except it was probably partially Carl’s, if he’d gone after Monroe, but Nick isn’t going to say that.

“He killed my brother!” the Geringeber shouts, pulling something out of his pocket.

It’s a gun.

Everything shifts, then – having a long range weapon suddenly makes the Geringeber so much more of a threat – and Nick starts to face the possibility that he might have to kill him.

“Don’t do this. This isn’t going to solve anything. It’s not going to bring your brother back,” Nick tells him.

“I know that,” the Geringeber says quietly, but he’s still staring at the gun in his hand.

“Don’t.”

The word is soft, almost a plea, because Nick really doesn’t want to do this.

The Geringeber hesitates for a long moment, long enough that Nick starts to hope he’s gotten through to him. Then he raises the gun, pointing it at Monroe, and Nicks shoots him.

In the right shoulder, which should be enough to get him to drop the gun, but not kill him. Unfortunately, although it does knock him back slightly, he doesn’t drop the gun, and he points it right back at Monroe. Nick shoots him in the hand, and the gun clatters to the ground as the Geringeber curses.

“I don’t want to kill you,” Nick tells him, leaving ‘but I will’ unspoken, but not unheard.

“You’ll have to,” the Geringeber replies, tusks growing as he lunges for Monroe with a snarl.

Nick shoots him again, three times, until he finally stops charging forward and crumples to the driveway. Nick waits, carefully controlling his breathing, until it seems likely the Geringeber won’t be getting back up. Nick keeps his gun trained on him as he moves, though, until he reaches Monroe’s side.

“Monroe,” he says, still watching the Geringeber. He repeats it when there’s no reply, then turns his attention more towards Monroe, kneeling down next to him and shaking his shoulder slightly. “Monroe!”

Monroe stirs, cracking open his eyes to glare at him. “Your shouting is really not improving this situation right now.”

He hadn’t started panicking – not really – but he still feels the relief curling in his chest. “Hey.”

“Hey back,” Monroe replies, sitting up with a grimace. “What happened to you staying away?”

“Like I was going to listen to you,” Nick says.

Monroe snorts. “Don’t know why I thought you’d start now. Where di-” He cuts off as his gaze lands on the Geringeber, and he stares intensely, sniffing the air. “He’s dead.”

Nick’d suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed still hits a little hard. He’d been hoping things could end differently. All he says, though, is, “Yeah.”

Monroe turns to look at him. “You _killed_ him.”

There’s no accusation in his tone, just surprise – maybe even something like disbelief.

Nick frowns. “I’m a Grimm, remember?”

“Well, yeah, but.” Monroe grimaces. “What happened to your ‘don’t kill unless there’s no other option’ policy?”

“He didn’t leave me another option.” It’s the truth. Whatever regret Nick feels for having to kill the Geringeber, in the same situation, he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

“The hell did I miss?” Monroe asks.

“He went after you,” Nick replies. “And me, but mostly you. He was trying to kill you.”

There’s a long pause, then Monroe looks away. “There’s a reason he-”

“I know,” Nick cuts him off. “He told me about his brother.”

Monroe looks back at him, sharply. “And you still-” He gestures to the Geringeber’s body.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me before. He _went after you_. When someone’s trying to kill you, that’s one of those ‘no other option’ situations.” Nick doesn’t know what’s in his expression, but whatever it is, it’s making Monroe stare at him in a way he’s never seen before. Not fear, or desire, not really, but _something_. He doesn’t know what to do with it, so he just. Keeps talking. “I tried to talk to him, but he wouldn’t listen.”

Silence stretches between them again, and Monroe’s still looking at him oddly. But at least it’s turned into an expression Nick recognizes. It’s the look Monroe gets when he’s fighting not to say something – or maybe to say something, they’re very similar looks.

But he apparently decides not to, because after a few moments, he looks away again.

Nick sighs, and tries to ignore the vague feeling that there’s something he should be saying, too. Instead, he leans in press a kiss to the corner of Monroe’s mouth – also ignoring the stronger feeling that he’d like to do a hell of a lot more than that right then – and pushes himself to his feet.

“I’m calling you an ambulance, and then I’ve got to report this.” He grimaces. “So much for watching a movie tonight.”

 

 **\+ 1**

It’s hours before they’re actually in the house, and alone. Nick’s got a ton of paperwork he’s going to need to fill out – not to mention a mandatory session with the police psychologist – and Monroe’s got quite a few cuts and bruises, as well as a concussion.

But Nick doesn’t want to think about any of that right now.

So instead, he fusses over Monroe, settling him on the couch and getting him water and painkillers, while Monroe pretends to be cranky about it.

Finally, Nick falls onto the couch next to him, resting his head against the armrest and closing his eyes. “Let’s do something different for our next date night, okay?”

“I would’ve figured this would be fairly standard for you Grimms,” Monroe comments.

Nick waves a hand. “Technically, that wasn’t a Grimm thing. That was me getting in the middle of some kind of Blutbaden Geringeber thing.”

When Monroe responds, the almost snarkiness that’d been in his last comment is gone. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Of course I should have,” Nick replies. “I still can’t believe you actually expected me to stay out of it.”

“Any other Grimm would have let him kill me. Hell, any other Grimm would have done it _for_ him,” Monroe says.

Nick doesn’t even bother opening his eyes for that. He’s tired, and Monroe isn’t helping right now. “If you haven’t noticed by now that I’m not any other Grimm, then you need to get those Blutbad observational skills checked.”

“You’re not funny,” Monroe informs him. “I’m not sure who told you that you were, but you’re really not. You should stop trying, it’s just sad.”

“I’m hilarious, and you know it.” Nick twists, blindly swinging his legs up onto the couch and smiling when they land in Monroe’s lap.

“Oh, hell, no,” Monroe says. “I’m the injured one. If anyone’s getting used as furniture, it should be you.”

Nick cracks open one eye. “If you insist.”

Monroe raises an eyebrow when Nick shifts, then grumbles ineffectively as Nick pulls him in closer. Particularly ineffectively since he does nothing to actually stop him, just settles in between Nick’s legs, resting against him. Nick slides his hand over Monroe’s waist, resting it on his stomach.

They lay like that for a while in silence.

Then Monroe says quietly, “I would have deserved it.”

Nick curls his fingers into the fabric of Monroe’s shirt. “You don’t deserve to die.”

“I killed his brother.” It’s soft, matter-of-fact.

“Because you were attacked first,” Nick points out.

“That time,” Monroe says. “Not all of the times.”

“I don’t care.” It’s a lie. He does, a little. But not enough.

“Nick-”

“You’re reformed. You do more good now than most people do their whole lives, and you do it while fighting to stay reformed. You’re a good man. Anyone who wants to say otherwise is going to have to answer to me,” Nick says determinedly.

There’s silence for a moment. Then Monroe asks, “Why?”

“Because I love you.” It slides out before Nick can help it. He’d meant to say ‘because I trust you,’ like he usually does, but apparently his mouth had had other ideas.

Monroe stills beneath him, suddenly tense.

“I’m not going to take it back,” Nick says, his voice slightly defensive. Monroe can deal. “If you have to keep asking me why I do things, apparently I haven’t been doing a good job of showing you how I feel about you.”

He wishes he could see Monroe’s face better right about now, because he can’t tell what Monroe’s thinking.

Eventually, Monroe says softly, “Maybe you shouldn’t.”

“What, shouldn’t love you?” Nick asks. “Like I shouldn’t trust you? Yeah, telling me that didn’t work then, and it’s not going to work now.”

Monroe doesn’t say anything.

Nick slowly uncurls his fingers from Monroe’s shirt, resting his palm flat against Monroe’s stomach again. “You don’t have to feel it back.”

Monroe covers Nick’s hand with his own, threading his fingers through Nick’s. “I don’t know if it’s a good thing that I do.”

Yeah, Nick had been wrong before. Apparently Monroe really did have to feel it back, because a tightness in his shoulders that he hadn’t even really been aware of loosens at that. “It is to me.”

Monroe snorts softly. “I still think we’re both insane.”

“Duly noted,” Nick replies, tugging on Monroe’s shirt with his free hand. “Come here.”

Monroe turns so he’s facing him, releasing Nick’s hand and sliding up a bit so he can plant his hands on the armrest on either side of Nick’s head, looking down at him.

“Hey,” Nick says with a smile.

Monroe responds by kissing him.

“On second thought,” Nick says, when Monroe pulls back. “If this is how the night’s going to end, let’s not do anything different next time.”

“Only if next time, I get to kill someone for you,” Monroe replies, nosing at the corner of Nick’s jaw, below his ear.

“That’d be something different,” Nick tells him, cupping his hand around the back of Monroe’s neck.

“That’s so unfair,” Monroe grumbles.

“Sorry,” Nick says, smiling unapologetically. “I’m still the decision maker in this little pack.”

Monroe growls. “Stop calling this a pack.”

Nick is completely unintimidated by that growl. Possibly because he just finds it kind of hot. “Why? That’s what it is.”

“A Blutbad can’t have a pack with a Grimm,” Monroe says.

“But you do,” Nick replies confidently. “We’re in a relationship. We have territory. We take care of each other, kill to protect each other. We’re a pack.”

“Shut up,” Monroe mutters.

Nick tilts his head slightly to nip at the soft skin of Monroe’s neck. “Never.”

Monroe growls again.

“You’re not intimidating,” Nick murmurs against Monroe’s skin.

“Wasn’t trying to be,” Monroe replies.

…oh.

“Good.” Nick grazes the same spot with his teeth, then licks it.

Monroe’s response is to lick at the place on Nick’s jaw that he’d been nuzzling, then move down Nick’s jawline, stopping at his chin. Nick shifts down to kiss him.

“How’s your head?” Nick asks.

“I’ve had worse,” Monroe replies.

“You should be resting,” Nick says.

Monroe grunts, but pulls away slightly. And then settles himself on top of Nick, head pillowed in the crook of Nick’s neck.

“You’re going to sleep like that?” Nick asks.

“I’ve only got a few hours until you wake me up to ask me inane questions, right?” Monroe asks.

“Until I check on you. I’m supposed to be monitoring you to make sure you don’t get worse,” Nick corrects, then pauses. “So pretty much, yeah.”

“Then yup,” Monroe says.

Nick would complain at that, but he’s really not all that upset. He does worm around a bit, though, gently nudging Monroe into a more comfortable position, getting half of his weight back on the couch again. He reaches out to set an alarm on his phone for a few hours, just in case, then closes his eyes, tangling his fingers carefully in Monroe’s hair.

“Your first question better not be ‘is this a pack,’” Monroe mutters, voice muffled and sleepy.

“It won’t be,” Nick promises.

It might be ‘who’s the alpha of this pack,’ though.

Just because Nick’s in love with him doesn’t mean it’s not still way too much fun to poke at him.


End file.
